


Come to Marlboro Country

by neriied



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:21:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neriied/pseuds/neriied
Summary: Dean takes a smoke break.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 5





	Come to Marlboro Country

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from an old Marlboro ad campaign. I think Dean would smoke marlboros and I couldn’t help but be reminded of Dean while reading the description of the campaign: “The images initially featured rugged men portrayed in a variety of roles but later primarily featured a rugged cowboy or cowboys, in picturesque wild terrain. The advertisements were originally conceived as a way to popularize filtered cigarettes, which at the time were considered feminine.”

Dean settled himself on the white plastic chair outside their motel room. The lingering humidity of the day let him get away with just his henley, the leather jacket abandoned inside. Below the Mason-Dixon line this time of year it could feel stifling to wear in the heat. But it was a heaviness he carried gladly, the way an Achaean soldier carried his breastplate marching along towards Troy. Other times it felt like being swaddled, which was its own kind of comfort.

The stench of his pits briefly drafted towards his nose as he lifted his arms to light his cigarette. It drew his mind back to the vamp nest they took out earlier that day. A couple of the victim’s bodies had still been lying about—rotting. Shit smelled. It’s not something you get used to, no matter how many times you take out the trash.

Dean wondered if Cas sweat. Jimmy Novak? Whatever. The inner workings of an angel-vessel weren’t exactly clear to him. Mentally he added deodorant to his shopping list. Sam always eyed the overpriced eco-friendly crap, though he would never say anything. Maybe if Dean hustled well at the bar later he would splurge. _Only if Sammy was nice_ , he thought with a smirk.

He took a long drag of his cigarette. Marlboro menthols. Five bucks and fifty cents a pack. Yesterday he said tomorrow he would quit. It fucked with his lungs and Sam always made a face. If Cas were here he’d offer him one, or maybe a puff of his own. Sam would definitely make a face at that. _It’s just wrong, Dean!_ Like he just gave smack to a baby. It wasn’t an issue of innocence, Dean knew, but one of divinity. Purity. Loftiness. Corruption. He ran out of words. And it wasn’t necessarily about Cas himself either, more what he represent.

Sam was right in a way, but to Dean it was all about Cas. An Angel-of-Heaven sure, but— well. He couldn’t say Cas was his angel so he trampled over that train of thought to the next one. The point was, really, that Dean sought out the human in Cas. Perhaps in the way that most humans do when faced with the inhuman. He couldn’t quite bring himself to compare Cas to a rock with googly eyes glued onto it, but the image butt into his mind anyway. The _point_ was that Dean clung to the human in Cas. He tucked away in his pocket every flash of emotion, every turn of phrase (however awkward), and every shrug.

So yeah, he’d offer him a cigarette. _I’m a generous guy after all._

He reclined back in the chair, letting his legs sprawl further apart. Dean imagined Cas suddenly popping in right in that empty space. Cas would be staring down at him. _Hello Dean_. Dean would tilt his head up to look right back. _Hiya Cas. Care for a smoke?_ He blew away the image with a puff of his cigarette.

In reality Dean would jump at the intrusion. Mutter a profanity. Toe out his cigarette from where he would have dropped it on the concrete. He peered at the cigarette currently held between his fingers. It would be a waste of a perfectly good cig’ but Dean wouldn’t mind, not with Cas looking at him like that.

Dean heaved a sigh and took another pull. Suddenly, he wished he had brought out his jacket despite the heat. He crossed his arms across his chest.

Where in the world was Cas now? Up in heaven doing whatever it is exactly that angels do, he supposed. Pulling another poor sucker out of hell? It’s only me, ain’t that right Cas? Ain’t that right? Dean tersely blew out the cigarette smoke thinking about the Michael sword bullshit. Along with his exhale, Dean was determined to let the thought dissipate for now. No need to waste his smoke break stewing over negative thinking. He did enough of that every other time of day.

Instead, Dean thought about Cas catching rays on a sandy beach. The kind you saw on the travel ads with the palm trees and white beaches. He’d have his toes in the sand and a nice cold beer in hand. One of these days Dean was gonna get him to zap the three of them out somewhere just like that for a little TLC. He could see it now: Sam sitting under the shade with a fat, dog eared, book on something or other. _Listen to this, Dean. So and so says that what not and so forth but only in the case of such and such. Cool, huh?_ Dean would nod sagely and ask Cas to hand him another beer, but Cas would be out wading into the water. Dean would be worried that Cas didn’t know how to swim and go out to wade after him. Equipped with all knowledge Cas would be just fine, so Dean would relax in the warm, clear, and oh so blue water. He would float on his back and close his eyes, letting the sun beat down on his face. Cas could zap the sunburn off later.

A cold breeze brought him back down to earth. He looked at his cigarette—burning low and collecting ash. Dean took one last drag before flicking it away from him. With a grunt he stood up from his chair. Some days he felt a million years old. Nearly as old as Cas. He smiled at the thought. _Feathery bastard._ The discarded cigarette butt was still in his line of view. He suddenly felt guilty littering and scooped it up for the outdoor ashtray a few feet away.

With his cigarette and environmental duties done, his repose came to a close. He looked through the window of their motel room. Sam hadn’t closed the blinds so he could see the blue illumination of the TV on his brothers sleeping face. Tenderness filled his chest. Quietly, Dean creaked the door open and crossed back over the threshold. 


End file.
